Black and Orange (45 page)

Their eyes locked. “Did you make this place?”

Patty nodded swiftly. “I’ve made lots.”

“You painted them?”

“Mom couldn’t find me when I came up here. I had to.”

“I see,” Teresa replied, another glance around her amazing surroundings.

“Did you make that one?” the little girl asked.

Teresa smirked. “I don’t know what you mean. Which one?”

Carefully, Patty placed her palm on Teresa’s chest.

Over her lung.

“You don’t feel it inside, do you? It’s
sorta
shaped like a ball, but it’s holding a mushy white lump—like oatmeal. It goes out through the back, but it’s super-thin. You’d have to think really hard to make something like it.”

Teresa turned to the parents for guidance, her heart racing. “What’s she talking about?”

The father shook his head. “She can see the mantles, no matter where they are.”

“Nobody can see them!” Teresa fired up to her feet, knees cracking. But she wasn’t sure she was correct about that. “And why would she say I have one
inside
me?”

Patty blinked, not showing the slightest bit of disturbance. “Because, ma’am, there
is
one inside you.”

~ * ~

They sat in the Wrangler for ten minutes without saying a word. Patty had said her last farewells to the family she’d never see again, but occasionally the living room drapes moved aside. If they didn’t take off soon, Teresa had a feeling her family would start creeping out to the front yard again for another goodbye.

Teresa stared at Martin’s toy aquarium. She had hung the puka necklace around it. Martin hadn’t been one to be fussed over and he would have complained about a shrine. Well, she’d never listened to him before, so why now? Teresa touched her chest, to feel something different there, but it felt like the rest of her body—on the surface. It was glaringly obvious now that a small mantle had been constructed inside her lung out to the exterior. An orb. A small prison. The damn thing was elaborate, and yet so subtle she hadn’t sensed it until Patty pointed it out.

Teresa continued to grope her chest for answers.

“It won’t go away.” Patty was looking forward, not paying full attention to Teresa. “It’s
real
strong. Why did you put it there?”

Teresa steadied herself on the steering wheel. “I think a friend did.”

“What’s it there for?”

Teresa’s eyes glazed. “I’m not sure. We’ll see, I suppose...”

She knew what it was for, but whether the containment worked would be a mystery, for a time anyway. All those hours in the hospital, his medical books, the X-ray lying on her chest... How had he been able to set the traps at the train yard afterward? And then to pull that thing off with the Priestess of Morning? It staggered her imagination. Martin was lucky he hadn’t died right then.

She pressed play and the Sam Cooke CD came on. Martin used to play it when they saved a Heart, a victory ritual. Somehow, Sam didn’t sound as happy as he normally did though.

Teresa reached into her pocket for a clove and pulled out lollipops instead.
Oh yes, right.
Smiling, she offered one to the quiet little girl. Patty lifted her goody bag. A stash of trick-or-treat candy from last night. “Dad said it would be my last time for Trick or Treat.”

Teresa tucked a cherry lollipop in her mouth. The Wrangler started up with a purr. Before she could drive off, she glanced over. This poor girl had been handed to the wolves. It wasn’t fair. “I’m sorry if I’m looking sad. I hope you—”

“I’ll be all right.”

Tough kid. Still though
. “Are you ready for this Patty? I mean, are you really ready? We have a lot of work to do.”

Mint green eyes slid over. “I won’t let you down Teresa. He won’t win.”

Steeling herself, Teresa put the car in drive.

“Are we going to fly somewhere?” Patty asked, a little cheerfully.

Teresa glanced at her. It was the first time Patty had looked even remotely like a child. “Sometimes. But if we can drive a car somewhere, we drive.”

“Who says?” asked Patty.

“The Messenger.”

“That’s our boss?”

“Sort of.”

“The Messenger makes all the rules then?”

“Probably.”

“Will we ever meet him?”

“Or her.”

“Well, will we?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Teresa?”

“Yeah.”

“Is this trip long? I don’t like long car trips.”

The Sam Cooke CD played on as the Wrangler tracked through star-shaped leaves scattered across the everlasting road.

~ * ~

A block away I watched them go. Black and orange party streamers blew in the rafters overhead. Some had crossed the street over the golden star leaves, whipped into random destiny. For most people the year was winding down, but for my Teresa it was only beginning. Planning. Everything would lead up to the next October.

I could see the side of her face as she drove off with Patty. I quickly read Teresa’s thoughts. It wasn’t common practice, not something I felt privileged to do, but I needed to understand.

Teresa’s thoughts were about him. Only him. On the other side of here and there, she imagined him waiting, perhaps along a vast shoreline, the warm sun lifting over the distance, the air vital with new life. He would remain there for a chance to hold her again and say the things left unsaid.

I’ve been given many gifts, and I had the privilege of knowing the truth. Martin was indeed standing there on that sandy shore of dreams, waiting impatiently but hopefully, until they met again. And no power known to the universe could ever move him from that spot.